Father and daughter regarded each other warily, each more than a little insecure with the other. Her little bedsitting-room was like a lair, and she went out from it into this vast, dun world, with its smoke-gray houses, its glaring streets of shops, its dark streets of homes, its orange-lit windows, under skies of dull copper or muddy gray or black, much as an animal goes out to seek food. Produce them!" "Never!" replied Kneebone. Wrenching his hands from her shoulders, she thrust them away and leapt up from the chair. But what if she were to marry? He glanced towards the elderly dame and found her watching him, the dimple very much in evidence.
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